UC-NRLF 


THE  DREAMERS 

AND 

OTHER  POEMS 


THEODOSIA  GARRISON 


THE  DREAMERS 
AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE    DREAMERS 

AND  OTHER  POEMS 


BY 


THEODOSIA  GARRISON 


NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,   1917, 
BY   GEORGE    H.  DORAN   COMPANY 


PRINTED   IN   THE   UNITED   STATES   OF   AMERICA 


TO 

F.  J. 


September,  1917 


For  the  privilege  of  reprinting  the  poems  included  in  this 
volume  the  author  thanks  the  Editors  of  Scribner's,  Harper's 
Magazine,  Harper's  Bazar,  McClure's,  Collier's  Weekly, 
The  Delineator,  The  Designer,  Ainslee's,  Everybody's,  The 
Smart  Set,  The  Cosmopolitan,  Lippincott's,  Munsey's,  The 
Rosary,  The  Pictorial  Review,  The  Bookman,  and  the  Newark 
Sunday  Call. 


CONTENTS 

THE  DREAMERS  ............  13 

THREE  SONGS  IN  A  GARDEN 15 

THE  RETURN 19 

BLACK  SHEEP "„     .  21 

MONSEIGNEUR  PLATS .'..  23 

UNBELIEF 26 

THE  SILENT  ONE 27 

THE  ROSE 29 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  YOUNG  PAGE .  31 

THE  NEW  SPRING 33 

THE  BURDEN 35 

THE  BRIDE 36 

THE  SEER  OF  HEARTS .  39 

THE  UNSEEN  MIRACLE 40 

THE  APRIL  BOUGHS 41 

TRANSIENTS 43 

THE  MOTHER tV .'    .    '  44 

WHEN  PIERROT  PASSES •    .     .  45 

THE  POET 47 

MAGDALEN 49 

A  SALEM  MOTHER 51 

THE  DAYS 55 

THE  CALL 56 

THE  PARASITE ,  58 

YOUTH 62 

THE  EMPTY  HOUSE 64 

THE  BROKEN  LUTE 66 

ORCHARDS 67 

ix 


X  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

TWILIGHT 69 

A  LOVE  SONG 71 

OLD  BOATS 72 

BEAUTY 74 

A  SONG 76 

MOTHERS  OF  MEN 77 

LOVELACE  GROWN  OLD 79 

SHADE 84 

THE  VAGABOND 86 

DISTANCE 88 

THE  GYPSYING 89 

GOOD-BYE,  PIERETTE 92 

THE  AWAKENING 94 

THE  WEDDING  GOWN ,     .     .  96 

THE  DISCIPLES 98 

THE  UNKNOWING 100 

HEART  OF  A  HUNDRED  SORROWS 101 

THE  RETURNING 103 

THE  INLANDER 104 

AD  FINEM 106 

A  SONG  OF  HELOISE 108 

THE  RETURN 109 

THE  POPLARS Ill 

THE  LITTLE  JOYS 113 

SONGS  OF  HIMSELF 

HIMSELF 117 

THE  FAIR 120 

THE  DANCING  DAYS 123 

SHEILA 126 

THE  GRIEF 128 

THE  INTRODUCTION 130 

THE  STAY-AT-HOME  .                          132 


THE  DREAMERS 
AND  OTHER  POEMS 


JNiV, 


THE  DREAMERS 
AND  OTHER  POEMS 

THE  DREAMERS 

THE  gypsies  passed  her  little  gate — 

She  stopped  her  wheel  to  see, — 

A  brown-faced  pair  who  walked  the  road, 

Free  as  the  wind   is   free; 

And  suddenly  her  tidy  room 

A  prison  seemed  to  be. 

Ker  shining  plates  against  the  walls, 

Her  sunlit,  sanded  floor, 

The  brass-bound  wedding  chest  that  held 

Her  linen's  snowy  store, 
13 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

The  very  Wheel  whose  humming  died, — 
Seemed  only  chains  she  bore. 

She  watched  the  foot- free  gypsies  pass; 

She  never  knew  or  guessed 

The  wistful  dream  that  drew  them  close — 

The  longing  in   each  breast 

Some  day  to  know  a  home  like  hers, 

Wherein  their  hearts  might  rest. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  15 


THREE  SONGS  IN  A  GARDEN 


WHITE  rose-leaves  in  my  hands, 

I  toss  you  all  away; 

The    winds    shall    blow    you    through    the 
world 

To  seek  my  wedding  day. 
Or  East  you  go,  or  West  you  go 

And  fall  on  land  or  sea, 
Find  the  one  that  I  love  best 

And  bring  him  here  to  me. 
And  if  he  finds  me  spinning 

'Tis  short  I'll  break  my  thread; 
And  if  he  finds  me  dancing 

I'll  dance  with  him  instead; 


16       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

If  he  finds  me  at  the  Mass — 

(Ah,  let  this  not  be, 
Lest  I  forget  my  sweetest  saint 

The  while  he  kneels  by  me!) 


II 


My  lilies  are  like  nuns  in  white 

That  guard  me  well  all  day, 
But  the  red,  red  rose  that  near  them  grows 

Is  wiser   far  than  they. 
Oh,  red  rose,  wise   rose, 

Keep  my   secret  well; 
I  kiss  you  twice,  I  kiss  you  thrice 

To  pray  you  not  to  tell. 
My  lilies    sleep   beneath   the   moon, 

But  wide  awake  are  you, 
And  you  have  heard  a  certain  word 

And    seen    a    dream   come   true. 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS       17 

Oh,  red  rose,  wise   rose, 

Silence  for  my  sake, 
Nor   drop   to-night  a   petal   light 

Lest  my  white  lilies  wake. 

Ill 

Will  the  garden  never  forget 

That  it  whispers   over  and   over, 
"Where  is   your   lover,   Nanette? 

Where  is  your  lover — your  lover?" 
Oh,  roses  I  helped  to  grow, 

Oh,  lily  and  mignonette, 
Must  you  always  question  me  so, 

"Where  is  your  lover,  Nanette?" 
Since  you  looked  on  my  joy  one  day, 

Is  my  grief  then  a  lesser  thing? 
Have  you  only  this  to  say 

When  I  pray  you  for  comforting? 


18  THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Now  that   I  walk  alone 

Here  where  our  hands  were  met, 

Must  you  whisper  me  every  one, 
"Where  is  your  lover,  Nanette?" 

I  have  mourned  with  you  year  and  year, 

When  the  Autumn  has  left  you  bare, 
And  now  that  my  heart  is  sere 

Does   not  one   of  your   roses   care? 
Oh,   help  me   forget — forget, 

Nor  question  over  and  over, 
"Where  is   your  lover,   Nanette? 

Where  is  your  lover — your  lover?'* 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS       19 


THE  RETURN 

I   LOST  Young   Love  so  long  ago 

I  had  forgot  him  quite, 
Until   a    little   lass   and   lad 

Went  by  my  door  to-night. 

Ah,   hand    in   hand,   but   not   alone, 
They  passed  my  open  door, 

For  with  them  walked  that  other  one 
Who    paused    here    Mays    before. 

And  I,  who  had  forgotten  long, 
Knew   suddenly   the    grace 

Of   one    who    in    an    empty   land 
Beholds   a  kinsman's   face. 


20  THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Oh,  Young  Love,  gone  these  many  years, 
'Twas  you  came  back  to-night, 

And  laid  your  hand  on  my  two  eyes 
That  they  might  see  aright, 

And  took  my  listless  hand  in  yours 
(Your  hands  without  a  stain), 

And  touched  me  on  my  tired  heart 
That  it  might  beat  again. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  21 


BLACK  SHEEP 

"Black  Sheep,  Black  Sheep, 

Have  you  any  wool?" 
"That  I  have,  my  Master, 

Three  bags  full." 

ONE  is  for  the  mother  who  prays  for  me  at 
night — 

A  gift  of  broken  promises  to  count  by  candle 
light. 

One  is  for  the  tried  friend  who  raised  me  when 

I  fell— 
A  gift  of  weakling's  tinsel  oaths  that  strew  the 

path  to  hell. 


22  THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

And  one  is  for  the  true  love — the  heaviest  of  all — 
That  holds  the  pieces  of  a  faith  a  careless  hand 
let   fall. 

Slack  Sheep,  Black  Sheep, 
Have  you  ought  to  say? 

A  word  to  each,  my  Master, 
Ere  I  go  my  way. 

A  word  unto  my  mother  to  bid  her  think  o*  me 
Only  as  a  little  lad  playing  at  her  knee. 

A  word  unto  my  tried  friend  to  bid  him  see  again 
Two  laughing  lads  in   Springtime  a-racing  down 
the  glen. 

A   word   unto   my   true   love — a   single   word — to 

pray 
If  one  day  I  cross  her  path  to  turn  her  eyes  away. 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS       23 


MONSEIGNEUR  PLAYS 

MONSEIGNEUR  plays  his  new  gavotte — 
Within  her  gilded  chair  the  Queen 
Listens,   her   rustling  maids   between; 
A  very  tulip-garden  stirred 
To  hear  the  fluting  of  a  bird; 
Faint  sunlight  through  the  casement  falls 
On  cupids  painted  on  the  walls 

At  play  with  doves.     Precisely  set 
Awaits  the  slender  legged  spinet 
Expectant  of  its  happy  lot, 

The  while  the  player  stays  to  twist 
The  cobweb  ruffle  from  his  wrist. 
A  pause,  and  then —  (Ah,  whisper  not) 
Monseigneur  plays  his  new  gavotte. 


24       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Monseigneur  plays  his  new  gavotte — 
Hark,  'tis  the  faintest  dawn  of  Spring, 
So  still  the  dew  drops  whispering 
Is  loud  upon  the  violets; 
Here  in  this   garden  of   Pierrettes' 
Where  Pierrot  waits,  ah,  hasten  Sweet, 
And  hear;  on  dainty,  tripping  feet 
She  comes — the  little,  glad  coquette. 
"Ah  thou,  Pierrot?"     "Ah  thou,  Pierrette?" 
A  kiss,  nay,  hear — a  bird  wakes,  then 
A  silence — and  they  kiss  again, 
"Ah,  Mesdames,  have  you  quite  forgot — " 
(So  laughs  his  music.)     "Love's  first  kiss? 
Let  this  note  lead  you  then,  and  this 
Back  to  that  fragrant  garden-spot.'* 
Monseigneur  plays  his  new  gavotte. 

Monseigneur  plays  his  new  gavotte — 
Ah,  hear — in  that  last  note  they  go 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS       25 

The  little  lovers  laughing  so; 

Kissing  their  finger-tips,  they  dance 
From  out  this  gilded  room  of  France. 
Adieu!     Monseigneur  rises  now 
Ready   for  compliment  and  bow, 
Playing  about  his  mouth  the  while 
Its  cynical,  accustomed  smile, 
Protests   and,  hand  on  heart,  avers 
The  patience   of   his   listeners. 
"A  masterpiece?     Ah,  surely  not." 
A  grey-eyed  maid  of  honour  slips 
A  long  stemmed  rose  across  her  lips 
And  drops  it;  does  he  guess  her  thought? 
Monseigneur  plays  his  new  gavotte. 


26       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


UNBELIEF 

YOUR  chosen   grasp  the  torch  of   faith — the  key 
Of  very  certainty  is  theirs  to  hold. 
They  read  Your  word  in  messages  of  gold. 

Lord,  what  of  us  who  have  no  light  to  see 

And  in  the  darkness  doubt,  whose  hands  may  be 
Broken  upon  the  door,  who  find  but  cold 
Ashes  of  words  where  others  see  enscrolled, 

The  glorious  promise  of  Life's  victory. 

Oh,  well  for  those  to  whom  You  gave  the  light 
(The  light  we  may  not  see  by)  whose  award 
Is  that  sure  key — that  message  luminous, 
Yet  we,  your  people  stumbling  in  the  night, 
Doubting  and  dumb  and  disbelieving — Lord, 
Is  there  no  word  for  us — no  word  for  us? 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS       27 


THE  SILENT  ONE 

THE  moon  to-night  is  like  the  sun 
Through  blossomed  branches  seen; 

Come  out  with  me,  dear  silent  one, 
And  trip  it  on  the  green. 

"Nay,  Lad,  go  you  within  its  light, 
Nor  stay  to  urge  me  so — 

'Twas  on  another  moonlit  night 
My  heart  broke  long  ago." 

Oh  loud  and  high  the   pipers   play 

To  speed  the  dancers   on; 
Come  out  and  be  as   glad  as  they, 

Oh,  little  Silent  one. 


28       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

"Nay,  Lad,  where  all  your  mates  are  met 

Go  you  the  selfsame  way, 
Another  dance  I  would  forget 

Wherein  I   too  was   gay." 

But  here  you  sit  long  day  by  day 
With  those  whose  joys  are  done; 

What  mates  these  townfolk  old  and  grey 
For  you  dear  Silent  one. 

"Nay,  Lad,  they're  done  with  joys  and  fears. 

Rare  comrades  should  we  prove, 
For   they   are   very   old  with   years 

And  I  am  old  with  love." 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  29 


THE  ROSE^ 


I  TOOK  the  love  you  gave,  Ah,  carelessly, 
Counting  it  only  as  a  rose  to  wear 

A  little  moment  on  my  heart  no  more. 
So  many  roses  had  I  worn  before, 
So  lightly  that  I  scarce  believed  them  there. 

But,  Lo!  this  rose  between  the  dusk  and  dawn 
Hath  turned  to  very  flame  upon  my  breast, 
A  flame  that  burns  the  day-long  and  the  night, 
A  flame  of  very  anguish  and  delight 
That  not  for  any  moment  yields  me  rest. 

And   I   am  troubled  with  a   strange,  new   fear, 
How  would  it  be   if  even  to  your  door 


30  THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

I  came  to  cry  your  pitying  one  day, 
And  you  should  lightly  laugh  and  lightly  say, 
"That  was  a  rose  I  gave  you — nothing  more." 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  31 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  YOUNG  PAGE 

ALL  that  I  know  of  love  I  see 
In  eyes  that  never  look  at  me; 
All  that   I  know  of  love  I  guess 
But  from  another's  happiness. 

A  beggar  at  the  window   I, 
Who,    famished,   looks    on   revelry; 
A  slave  who  lifts  his   torch  to   guide 
The  happy  bridegroom  to  his  bride. 

My  granddam  told  me  once  of  one 
Whom  all  her  village  spat  upon, 

Seeing  the  church  from  out  its  breast 
Had  cast  him  cursed  and  unconfessed. 


32       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

An  outcast  he  who  dared  not  take 
The  wafer  that  God's  vicars  break, 

But  dull-eyed  watched  his  neighbours  pass 
With  shining  faces  from  the  Mass. 

Oh  thou,  my  brother,  take  my  hand, 
More  than  one  God  hath  blessed  and  banned 
And  hidden  from  man's  anguished  glance 
The  glory  of  his  countenance. 

All  that  I  know  of  love  I  see 

In  eyes  that  never  look  at  me; 
All  that  I  know  of  love  I  guess 
But  from  another's  happiness. 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS       33 


THE  NEW  SPRING 

THE  long  grief  left  her  old — and  then 
Came   love   and   made   her   young   again 
As  though  some  newer,  gentler  Spring 
Should    start    dead    roses    blossoming; 
Old  roses   that  have  lain  full  long 
In  some  forgotten  book  of  song, 

Brought  from  their  darkness  to  be  one 
With  lilting  winds  and  rain  and  sun; 
And  as   they  too  might  bring  away 
From  that  dim  volume   where  they   lay 
Some  lyric  hint,  some  song's  perfume 
To   add  its   beauty   to  their  bloom, 
So  love  awakes  her  heart  that  lies 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Shrouded  in  fragrant  memories, 

And  bids  it  bloom  again  and  wake 
Sweeter  for  that  old  sorrow's  sake. 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS       35 


THE  BURDEN 

THE  burden  that  I  bear  would  be  no  less 
Should  I  cry  out  against  it;  though  I  fill 

The  weary  day  with  sound  of  my  distress, 
It  were  my  burden  still. 

The  burden  that  I  bear  may  be  no  more 
For  all  I  bear  it  silently  and  stay 

Sometimes  to  laugh  and  listen  at  a  door 
Where  joy  keeps  holiday. 

I  ask  no  more  save  only  this  may  be — 

On  life's  long  road,  where  many  comrades  fare, 

One  shall  not  guess,  though  he  keep  step  with  me, 
The  burden  that  I  bear. 


36       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  BRIDE 

1    / 

THOUGH  other  eyes  were  turned  to  him, 
He  turned  to  look  in  mine; 

Though  others  filled  the  cup  abrim, 
He  might  not  taste  the  wine. 

I  am  so  glad  my  eyes  were  first 
In  which  his  own  might  sink; 

I   am  so  glad  he  went  athirst 
Until  I  bade  him  drink. 

II 

The  Well-Beloved  took  my  hand 
And  led  me  to  his   fair  abode, 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  37 

The  home  that  Love  and  he  had  planned. 
(Strange  that  so  well  I  knew  the  road.) 

And  through  the  open  door  we  went, 
And  at  our  feet  the  hearth-light  fell, 

And   I — I   laughed   in   all  content, 
Seeing  I  knew  the  place  so  well. 

Ah,  to  no  stranger  Love  displayed 
Its    every   nook,    its    every    grace, 

This  was  the  House  of  Dreams  I  made 
Long,  long  before  I   saw  his   face. 

Ill 

I  jested  over-much  in  days  of  old, 

I  looked  on  sorrow  once  and  did  not  care, 

Now  Love  hath  crowned  my  head  with  very 

gold, 
I  will  be  worthy  of  the  joy  I  wear. 


38       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

There   is   not  one   a-hungered   or   a-cold 
Shall  seek  my  door  but  that  he  too  shall 
share 

Something  of  this  vast  happiness  I  hold; 
I   will  be  worthy  of  the  joy  I  wear. 

For   I   was    hungered   and   Love    spread   the 

feast, 
Cold — and     He     touched    my     heart     and 

warmed  it  there, 
Yea,  crowned  me  Queen — I  neediest  of  His 

least, 
I   will  be  worthy  of  the  joy  I   wear. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  39 


THE  SEER  OF  HEARTS 

FOR  mocking  on  men's  faces 

He   only    sees    instead 
The  hidden,  hundred  traces 

Of  tears  their  eyes  have  shed. 

Above  their  lips  denying, 

Through  all  their  boasting  dares, 
He  hears  the  anguished  crying 

Of  old  unanswered  prayers. 

And  through  the  will's  reliance 

He  only  sees  aright 
A   frightened  child's  defiance 

Left   lonely   in   the   night. 


40       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  UNSEEN  MIRACLE 

THE   Angel   of  the   night  when   night   was    gone 
High  upon  Heaven's  ramparts,  cried,  "The  Dawn !" 

And  wheeling  worlds  grew  radiant  with  the  one 
And  undiminished  glory  of  the  sun. 

And   Angel,   Seraph,    Saint  and   Cherubim 
Raised  to  the  morning  their  exultant  hymn. 

All  Heaven  thrilled  anew  to  look  upon 
The  great  recurring  miracle  of  dawn. 

And  in  the  little  worlds  beneath  them — men 
Rose,  yawned  and  ate  and  turned  to  toil  again. 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS       41 


THE  APRIL  BOUGHS  r 

IT  was  not  then  her  heart  broke — 
That  moment  when  she  knew 

That  all  her  faith  held  holiest 
Was  utterly  untrue. 

It  was  not  then  her  heart  broke — 
That  night  of  prayer  and  tears 

When  first  she  dared  the  thought  of  life 
Through  all  the  empty  years. 

But  when  beneath  the  April  boughs 

She  felt  the  blossoms  stir, 
The  careless  mirth  of  yesterday 

Came  near   and  smiled  at  her. 


42  THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Old   singing  lingered   in   the   wind, 
Old  joy  came  close  again, 

Oh,  underneath  the  April  boughs, 
I  think  her  heart  broke  then. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  43 


TRANSIENTS 

THEY   are   ashamed    who   leave   so   soon 
The  Inn  of  Grief — who  thought  to  stay 
Through  many  a  faithful  sun  and  moon, 
Yet  tarry  but  a  day. 

Shame-faced  I  watch  them  pay  the  score, 
Then  straight  with  eager  footsteps  press 
Where   waits   beyond  its   rose-wreathed   door 
The  Inn  of  Happiness. 

I  wish  I  did  not  know  that  here, 
Here  too — where  they  have  dreamed  to  stay 
So  many   and  many  a   golden  year 
They  lodge  but  for  a  day. 


44       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  MOTHER 

So  quietly  I   seem  to  sit  apart; 

I  think  she  does  not  know  or  guess  at  all, 
How  dear  this  certain  hour  to  my  old  heart, 

When  in   our  quiet  street  the  shadows   fall. 

She  leans  and  listens  at  the  little  gate. 

I  sit  so  still,  not  any  eye  might  see 
How  watchfully  before  her  there  I  wait 

For  that  one  step  that  brings  my  world  to  me. 

She  does  not  know  that  long  before  they  meet 
(So  eagerly  must  go  a  love  athirst), 

My  heart  outstrips  the  flying  of  her  feet, 

And  meets  and  greets  him  first — and  greets  him 
first. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  45 


WHEN  PIERROT  PASSES 

HIGH  above  his  happy  head 
Little  leaves   of  Spring  were  spread; 
And  adown  the   dewy  lawn 
Soft  as  moss  the  young  green  grass 
Wooed  his   footsteps,  and  the  dawn 
Paused  to  watch  him  pass. 
Even  so  he  seemed  in  truth 
Dancing  between  Love  and  Youth; 
And  his  song  as  gay  a  thing 
Still  before  him  seemed  to  go 
Light  as   any  bird  awing, 
Blithe   as  jonquils   in  the   Spring, 
And  we  laughed  and  said,  "Pierrot, 
Tis  Pierrot." 


46       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

"Oh/*  he  sang,  "Her  hands  are  far 
Sweeter  than  white  roses  are; 
When  I  hold  them  to  my  lips, 
Ere  I  dare  a  finer  bliss, 
Petal-like   her   finger-tips 
Tremble  'neath  my  kiss. 
And  the  mocking  of  her  eyes 
Lures    me   like   blue   butterflies 
Falling — lifting — of   their   grace, 
And  her  mouth — her  mouth  is  wine.' 
And  we  laughed  as  though  her  face 
Suddenly  illumed  the  place, 
And  we  said,  "  Tis  Columbine, 
Columbine." 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  47 


THE  POET 

HE  made  him  a  love  o'  dreams — 

He    raised    for    his    heart's    delight — 

(As  the  heart  of  June  a  crescent  moon) 
A   frail,    fair  spirit  of  light. 

He   gave   her   the   gift   of  joy — 

The    gift   of   the   dancing   feet- 
He  made  her  a  thing  of  very  Spring — 
Virginal — wild  and  sweet. 

But  when  he  would  draw  her  near 
To   his   eager   heart's   content, 

As  a  sunbeam  slips  from  the  finger-tips 
She  slipped   from  his  hold  and  went. 


48       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Virginal — wild — and   sweet — 

So  she  eludes  him  still — 
The  love  that  he  made  of  dawn  and  shade 

Of  dominant  want  and  will. 

For  ever  the  dream  of  man 
Is   more   than   the   dreamer   is; 

Though  he  form  it  whole  of  his  inmost  soul, 
Yet  never  'tis  wholly  his. 

Only   is   given   to   him 

The    right   to    follow    and   yearn 
The  loveliness  he  may  not  possess, 

The  vision  that  may  not  turn. 

Never  to  hold  or  to  bind — 

Only   to   know  how   fleet 
The  dream  that  is  and  yet  is  not  his, — 

Virginal — wild — and  sweet. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  49 


MAGDALEN 

MY  father  took  me  by  the  hand 

And  led  me  home  again; 
(He  brought  me  in  from  sorrow 

As  you'd  bring  a  child  from  rain). 
The  child's  place  at  the  hearth-stone, 

The  child's  place  at  the  board, 
And  the  picture   at  the  bed's  head 

Of  wee  ones  wi'  the  Lord. 


It's  just  a  child  come  home  he  sees 

To  nestle  at  his  arm; 
(He   brought  me   in   from  sorrow 

As  you'd  bring  a  child  from  harm). 


50       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

And   of   the   two   of    us   who    sit 
By  hearth  and  candle-light, 

There's  just  one  hears  a  woman's  heart 
Break — breaking  in  the  night. 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS       51 


A  SALEM  MOTHER 


THEY  whisper  at  my  very  gate, 
These  clacking  gossips  every  one, 

"We  saw  them  in  the  wood  of  late, 
Her  and  the  widow's  son; 

The  horses   at  the   forge  may  wait, 
The  wool  may  go  unspun." 

I   spread  the  food  he  loves  the  best, 
I  light  the  lamp  when  day  is  done, 

Yet   still   he    stays    another's    guest — 
Oh,  my  one  son,  my  son. 

I   would  it  burned   in  mine  own  breast 
The  spell  he  may  not  shun. 


52       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

She  hath  bewitched  him  with  her  eyes. 

(No  goodly  maid  hath  eyes  as  bright.) 
Pale  in  the  morn  I  watch  him  rise, 

As  one  who  wanders  far  by  night. 
The   gossips   whisper  and  surmise — 

I  hide  me  from  the  light. 


II 


Her  hair  is  yellow  as  the  corn, 

Her  eyes  are  bluer  than  the  sky; 
Behind  the  casement  yester-morn, 

I    watched   her    passing   by. 
My  son  not  yet  had  broken  bread, 

Yet  from  the  table  did  he  rise, 
She  said  no  word  nor  turned  her  head, 

What  then  the  spell  that  bade  him  stir, 
Nor  heeding  any  word  I  said, 

Put  by  my  hands  and  follow  her. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  53 

III 

He  was  so  strong  and  wise  and  good — 
Was  there  no  other  she  might  take, 
Nor  other  mothers'  hearts  to  break? 

What  though  she  bade  the  harvest  fail, 
What  though  she  willed  the  cattle  die, 
So  my  son's  soul  was  spared  thereby. 

My  cattle  fill  the  pasture-land, 

The   ripe    fruit   thickens    on   the   tree, 
My  son,  my  son  is  lost  to  me. 

IV 

They  burned  a  witch  in  our  town, 

On  hangman's  hill  to-day; 
And  black  the  ashes  drifted  down, 

Ashes  black  and  grey, 


54  THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Not  white  like  those  o'  martyred  folk 
Whose   souls   are   clean   as   they. 

They  burned  a  witch  in  our  town, 

Upon  a  windy  hill, 
For  that  she  made  the  wells  sink  down 

And  wrought  a  young  man  ill, 
The  smoke  rose  black  against  the  sky, 

And  hangs  before  it  still. 

They  burned  a  witch  in  our  town, 

And  sure  they  did  but  right, 
And  yet  I  would  the  rain  could  drown 

That  blackened  hill  from  sight, 
And  some  great  wind  might  drive  that  cloud 

'Twixt    God   and   me   this   night. 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS      55 


THE  DAYS  |/ 

I  CALL  my  years  back,  I,  grown  old^ 

Recall  them   day  by  day; 
And  some  are  dressed  in  cloth  o*  gold 

And  some  in  humble  grey. 

And  those  in  gold  glance  scornfully 

Or  pass  me  unawares; 
But  those  in  grey  come  close  to  me 

And  take  my  hands  in  theirs. 


56       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  CALL 

I  MUST  be  off  where  the  green  boughs  beckon — 
Why  should  I  linger  to  barter  and  reckon? 
The  mart  may  pay  me — the  mart  may  cheat  me, 
I  have  had  enough  of  the  huckster's  din, 
The  calm  of  the  deep  woods  waits  to  greet  me, 
(Heart  of  the  high  hills,  take  me  in.) 

I   must  be  off  where  the  brooks   are  waking, 
Where  birds  are  building  and  green  leaves  break 
ing. 

Why  should  the  hold  of  an  old  task  bind  me? 
I  know  of  an  eyrie  I  fain  would  win 
Where  a  wind  of  the  West  shall  seek  me  and  find 

me, 
(Heart  of  my  high  hills,  take  me  in.) 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  57 

I  must  be  off  where  the  stars   are  nearer, 
Where  feet  go  swifter  and  eyes  see  clearer, 
Little  I  heed  what  the  toilers  name  me — 
I  have  heard  the  call  that  to  miss  were  sin, 
The  April  voices  that  clamour  and  claim  me, 
(Heart  of  my  high  hills,  take  me  in.) 


58      THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  PARASITE 

They    brought    to    the    little    Princess,    from    her 

earliest  hour  of  birth, 
The  lovely  things,  the  beautiful  things,  the  soft 

things   of  earth. 

They  covered  her  floor  with  crimson,  they  wrapped 

her  in  eiderdown; 
They  hung  the  windows  with  cloth  of  gold,  lest 

her  eyes  look  down; 

(Lest  the  highway  show  an  unlovely  thing 
And  her  eyes  look  down.) 

They  brought  rare  toys  to  her  cradle,  rich  gems  to 

her  maidenhood; 
All  that  she  saw  was  beautiful,  all  that  she  heard 

was  good. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  59 

When  tumult  rose  in  the  city  they  bade  her  min 
strels  sing; 

They  drowned  with  the  sound  of  music  a  people's 
clamouring ; 

(Lest  she  turn  and  hark  to  the  highway, 

And  hear  an  unlovely  thing.) 

But  there  came  a  day  of  terror,  when  a  cry  too 

sharp  and  long 
Tore  through  the  streets  of  the  city,  through  the 

soft,  sweet  song. 

She  bade  her  singers  be  silent — silent  they  stood 

in  awe; 
She  raised  the  gold  from  the  window;  she  looked 

down  and  saw. 

(She  leaned  and  looked  on  the  highway, 
She  looked  down  and  saw.) 


60  THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

She  saw  men  driven  like  cattle,,  she  heard  the  wom 
an's  cry, 

She  saw  the  white-faced  children  toil,  and  the 
weaklings  die. 

She  saw  the  bound   and  the  beaten  beneath  her 

like  shifting  sands, 
And — she  dropped  the  cloth  on  her  window  with 

her  own  white  hands, 
(She  shut  out  her  people's  crying 
With  her  own  white  hands.) 

As  a  child  may  turn  from  a  picture  that  he  may 

not  understand, 
She    turned    to    fragrance    and    music, — to    soft 

things  and  bland. 

//  the  Princess  is  blind  to  anguish,  if  the  Princess 

is  deaf  to  woe, 
If  the  streets  of  her  city  may  run  with  blood,  and 

she  not  know, 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  6l 

Now  theirs  is  the  blame  who  have  closed  her  in 

ease  as  in  folded  wings, 
Who  have  barred  the   doors   and  windows,  what 

time  her  minstrel  sings, 
Lest  her  eyes  look  down  on  the  highway. 
And  look  on  unlovely  things. 


62  THE   DREAMERS   AND    OTHER    POEMS 


YOUTH 

WHAT  do  they  know  of  youth,  who  still  are 

young  ? 

They  but  the  singers  of  a  golden  song 
Who  may  not  guess  its  worth  or  wonder — 

flung 

Like  largesse  to  the   throng. 
We   only, — young   no   longer, — old   so   long 
Before   its   harmonies,   stand  marvelling — 
Oh!  we  who  listen — never  they  who  sing. 

Not  for  itself  is  beauty,  but  for  us 
Who  gaze  upon  it  with  all  reverent  eyes; 
And  youth  which  sheds  its  glory  luminous, 
Gives  ever  in  this  wise: — 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  63 

Itself  the  joy  it  may  not  realise. 

Only  we  know,,  who  linger  overlong 

Youth  that  is  made  of  beauty  and  of  song. 


64  THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 


THE  EMPTY  HOUSE 

April  will  come   to  the  quiet  town 

That  I  left  long  ago, 

Scattering  primroses  up  and  down — 

Row  upon  happy  row. 

(Oh,  little  green  lane,  will  she  come 

your   way, 
To  a  certain  path  I  know?) 

April  will  pause  by  cottage  and  gate 
In  the  wild,  sweet  evening  rain, 
Where  the  garden  borders  run  brown 

and  straight, 
To  coax  them  to  bloom  again. 

(Oh,    little    sad    garden    that    once 

was  gay, 
Must  she  call  to  you  all  in  vain?) 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  65 

April  will  come  to  cottage  and  hill, 

Laughing  her  lovers  awake. 

(Oh,  little  closed  house,  so  cold  and 

still, 

Will  she  find  you  for  old  joy's  sake, 
And  leave  one  primrose  beside  your 

door, 
Lest  the  heart  of  your  garden  break?) 


66       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  BROKEN  LUTE 

GOOD-BYE,    my    song — I,    who    found    words    for 

sorrow, 

Offer  my  joy  to-day  a  useless  lute. 
In  the  deep  night  I  sang  me  of  the  morrow; 
The  sun  is  on  my  face  and  I  am  mute. 

Good-bye,  my  song,  in  you  was  all  by  yearning, 
The  prayer  for  this  poor  heart  I  wore  so  long. 
Now   love    heaps    roses    where    the    wounds    were 

burning ; 
What  need  have  I  for  song? 

Long  since  I  sang  of  all  one  loves  and  misses; 
How  may  I  sing  to-day  who  know  no  wrong? 
My  lips  are  all  for  laughter  and  for  kisses. 
Good-bye,  my  song. 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS       67 


ORCHARDS 

ORCHARDS  in  the  Spring-time!     Oh,  I  think  and 

think  of  them, — 
Filmy  mists  of  pink  and  white  above  the  fresh, 

young  green, 
Lifting  and  drifting, — how  my  eyes   could  drink 

of  them, 
I'm  staring  at  a  dirty  wall  beyond  a  big  machine. 

Orchards  in  the  Spring-time !     Deep  in  soft,  cool 

shadows, — 

Moving  all  together  when  the  west  wind  blows 
Fragrance      upon      fragrance      over      road      and 

meadows — 
Z'TTZ  smelling  heat  and  oil  and  sweat,  and  thick, 

black  clothes. 


68       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Orchards   in   the   Spring-time!      The   clean   white 

and  pink  of  them 

Lifting  and  drifting  with  all  the  winds  that  blow. 
Orchards  in  the  Spring-time!     Thank  God  I  still 

can  think  of  them! 
You're  not  docked  for  thinking, — if  the  foreman 

doesn't  know. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  69 


TWILIGHT 

BELOW  them  in  the  twilight  the  quiet  village  lies, 
And   warm  within  its  holding,  the  old   folks  and 

the  wise, 
But  here  within  the  open  fields  the  paths  of  Eden 

show, 
And,  hand  in  hand,  across  them  the  little  lovers  go. 

Below  them  in  the  village  are  peaceful  folk  and 

still, 
They  gossip  of  old  yesterdays,  of  merry  times  or 

ill. 
But  here  beyond  the  twilight  stray  two  who  only 

see 
The  promise  of  to-morrow — the  dawn  that  is  to  be. 


70       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Below  them  in  the  village  the  quiet  hearth-flames 
glow, 

With  friendly  word  and  greeting  the  neighbours 
come  and  go, 

But  here  the  silence  folds  them  together,  each 
to  each, 

And  lights  within  the  mating  eyes  the  dream  be 
yond  their  speech. 

Below  them  in   the  village  stay  honest  toil   and 

truth, — 
They  rest  there  who  adventured  the  road  of  love 

and  youth. 
Smile  out,  old  hearts,  when  once  again  two  take 

the  path  you  know, 
And,  hand  in  hand,  at  twilight  the  little  lovers  go. 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS       71 


A  LOVE  SONG 

My  love  it  should  be  silent,  being  deep — 
And  being  very  peaceful  should  be  still — 
Still  as  the  utmost  depths  of  ocean  keep — 
Serenely  silent  as  some  mighty  hill. 

Yet  is  my  love  so  great  it  needs  must  fill 
With  very  joy  the  inmost  heart  of  me, 
The  joy  of  dancing  branches  on  the  hill, 
The  joy  of  leaping  waves  upon  the  sea. 


72      THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


OLD  BOATS 

I  SAW  the  old  sea  captain  in  his  city  daughter's 

house, 
Shaved  till  his   chin  was  pink,  and  brushed   till 

his  hair  was  flat, 
In  a  broadcloth  suit  and  varnished  boots   and   a 

collar  up  to  his  ears. 
(I'd  seen  him  last  with  a  slicker  on  and  a  tied 

down  oilskin  hat.) 


And  it  happened  that  I  went  home  last  June,  and 

saw  in  Mallory's  yard 
The  old  red  dory  that  sprung  a  leak  a  couple  of 

years  ago, 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  73 

Dragged   out   of  good   salt  water   and  braced  to 

stand  in  the  grass 
And  be  filled  with  dirt  from  stem  to  stern,  where 

posies  and  such  could  grow. 

Painted  to  beat  the  band,  with  vines  strung  over 

the  sides 
And  red  geraniums  in  the  bow, — a  boat  that  was 

built   for   water 
Made  into  a  flower  garden.     I  looked,  but  I  didn't 

laugh, 
For   I   thought   of  the   old   sea  captain  living  in 

town  with  his  daughter. 


74       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


BEAUTY 

SOMETIMES,      slow      moving      through      unlovely 

days, 

The  need  to  look  on  beauty  falls  on  me 
As    on   the   blind    the    anguished   wish   to    see, 
As  on  the  dumb  the  urge  to  rage  or  praise; 
Beauty  of  marble  where  the  eyes  may  gaze 
Till  soothed  to  peace  by  white  serenity, 
Or  canvas  where  one  master  hand  sets  free 
Great  colours  that  like  angels  blend  and  blaze. 

O,     there     be     many     starved     in     this     strange 

wise — 

For  this  diviner  food  their  days  deny, 
Knowing  beyond  their  vision  beauty  stands 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  75 

With     pitying     eyes — with     tender,     outstretched 

hands, 

Eager  to  give  to  every  passer-by 
The  loveliness  that  feeds  a  soul's  demands. 


76       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


A  SONG 

I  AM  as  weary  as  a  child 

That  weeps  upon  its  mother's  breast 
For  joy  of  comforting.      But  I 

Have  no  such  place  to  rest. 

I  am  as  weary  as  a  bird 

Blown  by  wild  winds  far  out  to  sea 
When  it  regains  its  nest.     But,  Oh, 

There  waits  no  nest  for  me. 

What  think  you  may  sustain  the  bird 
That  finds  no  housing  after  flight? 

And  what  the  little  child  console 
Who  weeps  alone  at  night? 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  77 


MOTHERS  OF  MEN 

MOTHERS  of  men — the  words  are  good  indeed  in 

the  saying, 
Pride  in   the  very  sound  of  them,,   strength  in 

the  sense  of  them,  then 
Why  is  it  their  faces  haunt  me,  wistful  faces  as 

praying 

Ever  some  dear  thing  vanished  and  ever  a  hope 
delaying, 

Mothers  of  Men? 

Mothers  of  Men,  most  patient,  tenderly  slow  to 

discover 

The   loss   of   the   old   allegiance   that   may   not 
return  again. 


78  THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

You  give  a  man  to  the  world,  you  give  a  woman 

a  lover — 
Where  is  your  solace  then  when  the  time  of  giving 

is   over, 

Mothers  of  Men? 

Mothers  of  Men,  but  surely,  the  title  is  worth  the 

earning. 

You  who  are  brave  in  feigning  must  I  ever  be 
hold  you  then 
By  the  door  of  an  empty  heart  with  the  lamp  of 

faith  still  burning, 

Watching  the  ways  of  life  for  the  sight  of  a  child 
returning, 

Mothers  of  Men? 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  79 


LOVELACE    GROWN    OLD 


MY  life  has  been  like  a  bee  that  roves 
Through  a  scented  garden  close, 

And    'tis    I    who    have    kept    the    honey    of 

love, 

The  hoarded  sweetness  and  scent  thereof, 
For  all  I  forget  the  rose. 

Oh,  exquisite  gardens  long  forgot 

That  have   made   my  store   complete, 

Though  winter  fall  upon  blossom  and  bee, 
Yet  the  kisses  I   garnered  remain  with 

me 
Forever  and  ever  sweet. 


80  THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

II 

The  Priest  hath  had  his  word  and  said  his  say- 
A  word  i'  faith  more  honest  than  beguiling — 

But  now  he  turns  upon  his  gloomy  way — 
Good  soul,  he  leaves  me  smiling. 

I  may  not  ponder  much  on  future  wrath; 

Of  all  those  loves  of  mine,  some  six  or  seven, 
Surely  ere  this  have  climbed  that  thorny  path 

That  leads  at  last  to  Heaven. 

My  bold,  brown  beauties,  eh,  my  delicate 
And  golden   damsels   with   uncensuring  eyes, 

Not  long  once  did  you  make  your  Lovelace  wait 
Outside  of  Paradise. 

Much  am  I  minded  of  a  certain  night — 

A  night  of  moon  and  drifting  clouds  that  hid 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  81 

The  convent  wall  from  overmuch  of  light 
Whereby  one  watched  forbid. 

Watched,  till  he  heard  within  the  trembling  sound 
Of  white,  girl  fingers  on  the  rusting  key 

That  turned  her  heart  as  well,  till  each  unbound 
Let  in  felicity. 

Ah  well,  I  have  small  fear — her  eyes  were  blue ; 

Blue  eyes  remember  though  it  cost  them  tears. 
Who  knows  but  that  same  hand  shall  lead  me 
through 

Another  Gate  of  Fears. 

In  the  same   fashion,  brave,  yet  most  afraid, 
Bold  for  her  love  yet  trembling  for  her  sin — 

So,    Saints   were    tricked   before.      My    blue-eyed 

maid, 
Be  there  to  let  me  in. 


82  THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

III 

Since  I  loved  you  for  a  day — Ah,  a  day,  the  fleet 
est— 
Since  I  sighed  and  rode  away  when  our  love  was 

sweetest, 
So  shall  you  remember  me,  now  that  youth  is 

over, 
Fairly,  of  your  courtesy,  as  your  fondest  lover. 


Since  I  turned  and  said  good-bye  when  my  heart 

was  truest, 
Since  we  parted,  you  and  I,  when  our  joy  was 

newest, 
Love  might  never  turn  to  doubt  and  from  doubt 

to  scorning. 

We  but  lived  his  sweetness  out  twixt  a  night 
and  morning. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  83 

So  shall  you  remember  me,  eager  in  pursuing, 
Faithful  as  a  man  must  be  in  his  time  o'  wooing. 
Greater  loves  but  stay  and  pine  so,  now  youth  is 

over, 

Smiling   shall   you   think   of   mine — mine,   your 
fondest  lover. 


84       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


SHADE    / 

THE  kindliest  thing  God  ever  made, 
His  hand   of  very   healing  laid 
Upon   a   fevered  world,   is   shade. 

His  glorious  company  of  trees 
Throw  out  their  mantles,  and  on  these 
The   dust-stained   wanderer   finds   ease. 

Green  temples,  closed  against  the  beat 
Of  noontime's  blinding  glare  and  heat, 
Open  to  any  pilgrim's  feet. 

The  white  road  blisters  in  the  sun; 
Now,   half   the   weary  journey   done, 
Enter  and  rest,  Oh  weary  one! 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  85 

And  feel  the  dew  of  dawn  still  wet 

Beneath  thy  feet,  and  so  forget 

The  burning  highway's  ache  and  fret. 

This  is  God's  hospitality, 

And  whoso  rests  beneath  a  tree 

Hath  cause  to  thank  Him  gratefully. 


86       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  VAGABOND 

THE  little  dream  she  had  forgot 

Oh,  long  and  long  ago, 
Came  back  across  the  April  fields 

And  touched  her  garment  so 
(As  might  a  wind-blown  primrose  cling 

And  one  scarce  guess  or  know.) 

A  little  beggared  outcast  dream 

Forgot  of  Love  and  men, 
And  all  because  a  fiddler  played 

An  old  song  in  the  glen, 
And  two  Young  Lovers  hand  in  hand, 

Sent  back  its  tune  again. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  87 

The  little  dream  she  had  forgot 
Crept  near  and  clung  and  stayed — 

A  roving,  ragged  vagabond 
Half  daring,  half  afraid^ 

And  all  because  young  love  went  by 
And  one  old  fiddler  played. 


88       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


DISTANCE      > 

A  HUNDRED  miles  between  us 
Could  never  part  us  more 

Than  that  one  step  you  took  from  me 
What  time  my  need  was  sore. 

A  hundred  years  between  us 

Might  hold  us  less  apart 
Than  that  one  dragging  moment 

Wherein  I  knew  your  heart. 

Now  what  farewell  is  needed 

To  all  I  held  most  dear, 
So  far  and  far  you  are  from  me 

I  doubt  if  you  could  hear. 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS       89 


THE    GYPSYING     y 

I  WISH  we  might  go  gypsying  one  day  the  while 

we're  young — 
On  a  blue  October  morning 
Beneath  a  cloudless  sky, 
When  all  the  world's  a  vibrant  harp 
The  -winds  o'  God  have  strung, 

And  gay  as  tossing  torches  the  maples  light  us 

by; 
The    rising     sun    before     us — a     golden     bubble 

swung — 

I  wish  we  might  go  gypsying  one  day  the  while 
we're  young. 

I  wish  we  might  go  gypsying  one  day  before  we're 

old— 
To  step  it  with  the  wild  west  wind 


90       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

And  sing  the  while  we  go, 
Through  far  forgotten  orchards 
Hung  with  jewels  red  and  gold; 

Through  cool  and  fragrant  forests  where  never 

sun  may  show, 
To   stand   upon   a  high   hill   and  watch  the  mist 

unfold — 

I   wish   we   might   go   gypsying   one   day   before 
we're  old. 

I  wish  we  might  go  gypsying,  dear  lad,  the  while 

we  care — 

The  while  we've  heart  for  hazarding, 
The  while  we've  will  to  sing, 
The  while  we've  wit  to  hear  the  call 
And  youth  and  mirth  to  spare, 

Before  a  day  may  find  us  too  sad  for  gypsy- 
ing. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  Ql 

Before  a  day  may  find  us  too  dull  to  dream  and 

dare — 
I  wish  we  might  go  gypsying,  dear  lad,  the  while 

we  care. 


92       THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


GOOD-BYE,   PIERRETTE 

GOOD-BYE,  Pierrette.     The  new  moon  waits 
Like  some  shy  maiden  at  the  gates 

Of  rose  and  pearl,  to  watch  us  stand 
This  little  moment,  hand  in  hand — 
Nor  one  red  rose  its  watch  abates. 

The  low  wind  through  your  garden  prates 
Of  one  this  twilight  desolates. 

Ah,  was  it  this  your  roses  planned? 
Good-bye,  Pierrette. 

Oh,  merriest  of  little  mates, 
No  sadder  lover  hesitates 

Beneath  this  moon  in  any  land; 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS       93 

Nor  any  roses,  watchful,  bland, 
Look  on  a  sadder  jest  of  Fate's. 
Good-bye,  Pierrette. 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  AWAKENING 

WHEN  the  white  dawn  comes 

I  shall  kneel  to  welcome  it; 
The  dread  that  darkened  on  my  eyes 

Shall  vanish  and  be  gone. 
I  shall  look  upon  it 

As  the  parched  on  fountains, 
Yet  it  was  the  blinding  night 

That  taught  the  joy  of  dawn. 


When  the  first  bird  sings, 
Oh,  I  shall  hear  rejoicing, 

And  all  my  life  shall  thrill  to  it 
And  all  my  heart  draw  near. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  95 

I  shall  lean  to  listen 

Lest  a  note  elude  me, 
Yet  it  was  the  fearsome  night 

That  taught  me  how  to  hear. 

When  the  sun  comes  up 

I  shall  lift  my  arms  to  it; 
The  fear  of  fear  shall  fall  from  me 

As  shackles  from  a  slave. 
I  shall  run  to  hail  it, 

Free  and  unbewildered, 
Yet  It  was  the  silent  night 

That  taught  me  to  be  brave. 


96      THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  WEDDING  GOWN 

SHE  put  her  wedding-gown  away 
As  tenderly  as  one  might  close, 

With  kissing  lips  and  finger-tips, 
The  petals  of  a  rose 

Still  held  for  the  Beloved's  sake — 
The  loveliest  that  blows. 

She  put  her  wedding-gown  away — 

The  quiet  place  was  all  astir 
With  vague  perfume  that  filled  the  room, 

Cedar  and  lavender, 
Yet  sweeter  still  about  it  clung 

The  fragrant  thoughts  of  her. 
She  put  her  wedding-gown  away — 

Yet  lingered  where  its  whiteness  gleamed 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  97 

As  one  above  a  sleeping  Love, 

Oh,  thus  it  was  she  seemed, 
Reluctant  still  to  turn  and  go 

And  leave  him  as  he  dreamed. 


98  THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 


THE  DISCIPLES 

A  GREAT  king  made  a  feast  for  Love, 
And  golden  was  the  board  and  gold 

The  hundred,  wondrous  gauds  thereof; 

Soft  lights  like  roses  fell  above 
Rare  dishes  exquisite  and  fine; 
In  jeweled  goblets  shone  the  wine — 

A  great  king  made  a  feast  for  Love. 

Yet  Love  as  gladly  and  full-fed  hath  fared 
Upon  a  broken  crust  that  two  have  shared; 

And  from  scant  wine  as  glorious  dreams  drawn 
up 

Seeing  two  lovers  kissed  above  the  cup. 

A  great  king  made  for  Love's  delight 
A  temple  wonderful  wherein 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  99 

Served  jeweled  priest  and  acolyte; 

There  fell  no  darkness  day  or  night 
Since  there  his  highest  altar  shone 
With  flaming  gems  as  some  white  sun, 

A  temple  made  for  Love's  delight. 

Yet  Love  hath  found  a  temple  as  complete 
In  some  bare  attic  where  two  lovers  meetj 
And  made  his  altar  by  one  candle 's  flame 
Seeing  two  lovers  burned  it  in  his  name. 


100      THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  UNKNOWING 

THEY  do  not  know  the  awful  tears  we  shed, 
The  tender  treasures  that  we  keep  and  kiss; 

They  could  not  be  so  still — our  quiet  dead 
In  knowing  this. 

They  do  not  know  what  time  we  turn  to  fill 
Love's    empty   chalice   with    a   cheaper   bliss; 

They  could  not  be  so  still — so  very  still 
In  knowing  this. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    P0O13  101 


HEART  OF  A  HUNDRED  SORROWS 

OH,  Heart  of  a  Hundred  Sorrows, 
Whose   pity   is   great  therefore, 

The  gift  that  Ihy  children  bring  thee 
Is  ever  a  sorrow  more. 

Sure  of  thy  dear  compassion, 
Concerned  for  our  own  relief, 

Ever  and  ever  we  seek  thee, 

And  each  with  his  gift  of  grief. 

Oh,  not  to  reprove  my  brothers, 
Yet  I,  who  am  less  than  less, 

Would  bring  thee  my  joy  of  being 
The  rose  of  my  happiness. 


102      TP.Z  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

The  spirit  that  makes  my  singing 
The  gladness  without  alloy, 

Oh,  Heart  of  a  Hundred  Sorrows, 
I  bring  thee  a  little  joy. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  103 


THE  RETURNING 

I  SAID  I  will  go  back  again  where  we 

Were  glad  together.     But  my  dear,  my  dear, 

Where  are  the  roses  we  were  wont  to  see 
The  songs  we  used  to  hear? 

I  said  the  hearth-flame  that  once  burned  for  us 
I  will  renew  with  all  the  cheer  of  old. 

Yet  here  within  the  circle  luminous 
Our  very  hearts  are  cold. 

That  was  a  barren  garden  that  we  found, 
This  was  an  empty  house  we  came  to  meet, 

We,  who  for  all  our  longing,  hear  no  sound 
Of  Love's  returning   feet. 


104<  THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 


THE  INLANDER    ^ 

I  NEVER  climb  a  high  hill 

Or  gaze  across  the  lea, 

But,  Oh,  beyond  the  two  of  them, 
Beyond  the  height  and  blue  of  them, 

I'm  looking  for  the  sea. 

A  blue  sea — a  crooning  sea — 
A  grey  sea  lashed  with  foam — 
But,  Oh,  to  take  the  drift  of  it, 
To  know  the  surge  and  lift  of  it, 
And  'tis  I  am  longing  for  it  as  the  homeless 
long  for  home. 

I  never  dream  at  night-time 
Or  close  my  eyes  by  day, 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  105 

But  there  I  have  the  might  of  it, 
The  wind-whipped,  sun-drenched  sight  of  it, 
That  calls  my  soul  away. 

Oh,  deep  dreams  and  happy  dreams, 
Its  dreaming  still  I'd  be, 

For  still  the  land  I'm  waking  in, 
'Tis  that  my  heart  is  breaking  in, 
And  'tis   far  where  I'd  be  sleeping  with  the 
blue  waves  over  me. 


106      THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


AD   FINEM  / 

I  LIKE  to  think  this  friendship  that  we  hold 

As  youth's  high  gift  in  our  two  hands  to-day 
Still  shall  we  find  as  bright,  untarnished  gold 

What    time    the    fleeting    years    have    left    us 
grey. 

I  like  to  think  we  two  shall  watch  the  May 
Dance  down  her  happy  hills  and  Autumn  fold 
The  world  in  flame  and  beauty,  we  grown  old 

Staunch  comrades  on  an  undivided  way. 

I  like  to  think  of  Winter  nights  made  bright 

By  book  and  hearth-flame  when  we  two  shall 

smile 
At  memories  of  to-day — we  two  content 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  107 

To  count  our  vanished  dawns  by  candle-light 
Seeing  we  hold  in  our  old  hands  the  while 
The  gift  of  gold  youth  left  us  as  she  went. 


108      THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


A  SONG  OF  HELOISE 

GOD  send  thee  peace,  Oh,  great  unhappy  heart — 
A  world  away,  I  pray  that  thou  mayst  rest 
Softly  as  on  the  Well-Beloved's  breast, 

Where  ever  in  her  wistful  dreams  thou  art. 

At  dawn  my  prayer  is  all  for  thee,  at  noon 
My  very  heart  and,  Oh,  at  night  my  tears 
For  all  we  walk  alone  the  empty  years 

Nor  meet  neath  any  sun — neath  any  moon. 

Yet  must  my  love  go  with  thee — all  apart 
From  this  the  life  I  lend  to  lesser  things; 
God  send  to  thee  this  night  beneath  its  wings, 

A  little  peace,  Oh,  great  unhappy  heart. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  109 


THE    RETURN 

I  COME  to  you  grown  weary  of  much  laughter, 

From   jangling   mirth    that   once    seemed    over- 
sweet, 
From  all  the  mocking  ghosts  that  follow  after 

A  man's  returning  feet; 
Give  me  no  word  of  welcome  or  of  greeting 

Only  in  silence  let  me  enter  in, 
Only  in  silence  when  our  eyes  are  meeting, 

Absolve  me  of  my  sin. 

I  come  to  you  grown  weary  of  much  living, 
Open  your  door  and  lift  me  of  your  grace, 

I  ask  for  no  compassion,  no  forgiving, 
Only  your  face,  your  face; 


110      THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Only  in  that  white  peace  that  is  your  dwelling 
To  come  again,  before  your  feet  to  sink, 

And  of  your  quiet  as  of  wine  compelling 
Drink  as  the  thirsting  drink. 

Be  kind  to  me  as  sleep  is  kind  that  closes 

With  tender  hands  men's  fever-wearied  eyes, 
Your  arms  are  as  a  garden  of  white  roses 

Where  old  remembrance  lies, 

I,  who  am  bruised  with  words  and  pierced  with 
chiding, 

Give  me  your  silence  as  a  Saint  might  give 
Her  white  cloak  for  some  hunted  creature's  hiding, 

That  he  might  rest  and  live. 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS     111 


THE   POPLARS 

MY  poplars  are  like  ladies  trim, 
Each  conscious  of  her  own  estate; 
In  costume  somewhat  over  prim, 
In  manner  cordially  sedate, 
Like  two  old  neighbours  met  to  chat 
Beside  my  garden  gate. 

My  stately  old  aristocrats — 
I  fancy  still  their  talk  must  be 
Of  rose-conserves  and  Persian  cats, 
And  lavender  and  Indian  tea; — 
I  wonder  sometimes  as  I  pass 
If  they  approve  of  me. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

I  give  them  greeting  night  and  morn, 
I  like  to  think  they  answer,  too, 
With  that  benign  assurance  born 
When  youth  gives  age  the  reverence  due, 
And  bend  their  wise  heads  as  I  go 
As  courteous  ladies  do. 

Long  may  you  stand  before  my  door, 
Oh,  kindly  neighbours  garbed  in  green, 
And  bend  with  rustling  welcome  o'er 
The  many  friends  who  pass  between; 
And  where  the  little  children  play 
Look  down  with  gracious  mien. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  113 


THE  LITTLE  JOYS 

MY  little  joys  went  by  me 

As  little  children  run 
Across  the  fields  at  sunset 

When  playing  time  is  done. 

And  now  alone  at  twilight 

What  is  there  may  content 
The  heart  that  loved  their  laughter 

And  frolic  merriment? 

Ah  well,  who  knows  but  still  may  dawn 

Another  fairer  day 
Wherein  my  little  joys  may  come 

A-dancing  out  to  play. 


SONGS  OF  HIMSELF 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  117 


HIMSELF 

THE  houseful  that  we  were  then,  you  could  count 

us  by  the  dozens, 
The   wonder   was    that    sometimes    the    old    walls 

wouldn't  burst: 
Herself  (the  Lord  be  good  to  her !),  the  aunts  and 

rafts  of  cousins, 
The  young  folks  and  the  children, — but  Himself 

came  first. 

Master  of  the  House  he  rvas,  and  well  for  them 

that  knew  it: 
His  cheeks  like  winter  apples  and  his  head  like 

snow; 
Eyes  as   blue  as   water  when   the  sun  of  March 

shines  through  it. 
And  steppin'  like  a  soldier  with  his  stick  held  so. 


118     THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Faith,  but  he  could  tell  a  tale  would  serve  a  man 

for  wages, 
Sing  a  song  would  put  the  joy  of  dancin'  in  two 

sticks ; 
But  Saints  between  themselves  and  harm  that  saw 

him  in  his  rages, 
Blazin'  and  oratin'  over  chess  and  politics. 

Master  of  the  House  he  was,  and  that  beyond  all 

saying 
Eh,  the  times  I've  heard  him  exhortin*  from  his 

chair 
The  like  of  any  Bishop,  yet  snappin*  off  his  prayin* 

To  put  the  curse  on  Phelan's  dog  for  horvlin'  in 
the  prayer. 

The  times  I've  seen  him  walkin'  out  like  Solomon 

in  glory, 
Salutin'  with  great  elegance  the  gentry  he  might 

meet; 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  11Q 

An   eye   for  every   pretty   girl,  an   ear   for  every 

story, 
And  takin'  as  his  just  deserts  the  middle  of  the 

street. 

Master  of  the  House,  with  much  to  love  and  be 

forgiven, — 
Yet,  thinkin'  of  Himself  to-day — Himself — I  see 

him  go 
With  that  old  light  step  of  hisf  across  the  Courts 

of  Heaven, 
His  hat  a  little  sideways  and  his  stick  held  so. 


120      THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE    FAIR 

THE  pick  o*  seven  counties,  so  they're  tellin'  me, 

was  there, 

Horses  racin'  on  the  track,  and  fiddles  on  the  green, 
Flyin'  flags  and  blowin'  horns  and  all  that  makes  a 

fair, 
I'm  hearin'  that  the  like  of  it  was  something  never 

seen. 

So  it  is  they're  tellin'  me, 
Girl  dear,  it  may  be  true — 
I  only  know  the  bonnet  strings 
Beneath  your  chin  were  blue. 

I'm  hearin'  that  the  cattle  came  that  thick  they 
stood  in  rows, 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  121 

And  Doolan's  Timmy  caught  the  pig  and  Terry 
climbed  the  pole, 

They're  tellin'  me  they  showed  the  cream  of  every 
thing  that  grows, 

And  never  man  had  eyes  enough  for  takin'  in  the 
whole. 

So  it  is  they're  tellin'  me, 
Girl  dear,  it  may  be  so, 
I  only  know  your  little  gown 
Was  whiter  than  the  snow. 

They're  tellin'  me  the  gentry  came  from  twenty 

miles  about, 
And  him  that  came  from  Ballinsloe  sang  limpin' 

Jamesey  down, 
And  'twas  Himself,  no  less,  stood  by  to  give  the 

prizes  out, 
They're  tellin'  me  you'd  hear  the  noise  from  here 

to  Dublin  town. 


122      THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

So  it  is  they're  tellin'  me, 
Girl  dear,  the  same  may  be, 
I  only  know  that  comin*  home 
You  gave  your  word  to  me. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  123 


HIS   DANCING   DAYS 

NEVER  did  I  find  me  mate  for  charmin'  an*  de 
lighting 

Never  one  that  had  me  bate  for  courtin'  an'  for 
fightin' ; — 

(A  white  moon  at  the  crossroads  then,  and  Denny 
with  the  fiddle; 

The  parish  round  admiring  when  I  danced  down 
the  middle.) 

Up  the  earth  and  down  again,  me  like  you'd  not 
discover ; 

Arrafi!  for  the  times  before  me  dancin'  days  were 
over! 

Never  was  a  moon  so  low  it  didn't  find  me  court- 
in', 


124      THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Never   blade    I    couldn't   show   a    wilder   way   of 

sportin*. 
(Is  it  at  the  fair  I'd  be,  the  gen  try 'd  troop  to  talk 

with  me; 
Leapin'  with  delight  was  she, — the  girl  I'd  choose 

to  walk  with  me.) 
'Twas  I  could  win  the  pick  of  them  from  any  lad 

or  lover; 
Arrah!  for  the  times  before  me  dancin*  days  were 

over! 

What's  come  to  all  the  lads  to-day, — these  mourn 
ful  ways  they're  keeping 

Grudgin'  any  hour  to  play  and  wastin'  nights  in 
sleepin*. 

(Readin'  be  the  chimney-place, — that  dacent  in 
their  habits, 

You'd  sooner  get  a  fight  or  song  be  callin'  upon 
rabbits.) 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  125 

Faith,  I'd  change  the  lot  for  one  rejoicing  rantin' 

rover, 
The  like  of  me,  myself,  before  me  dancin*  days 

mere  over. 


126     THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


SHEILA     K 

KATIE  had  the  grand  eyes  and  Delia  had  a  way 

with  her, 
And  Mary  had  the  Saints'  face  and  Maggie's  waist 

was  neat, 
But  Sheila  had  the  merry  heart  that  travelled  all 

the  day  with  her, 
That  put  the  laughing  on  her  lips  and  dancing  in 

her  feet. 

I've  met  with  martyrs  in  my  time,  and  Faith !  they 
make  the  best  of  it, 

But  'tis  the  uncomplaining  ones  that  wear  a  sor 
row  long, 


THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS      12? 

'Twas  Sheila  had  the  better  way  and  that's  to  make 

a  jest  of  it, 
To  call  her  trouble  out  to  dance  and  step  it  with  a 

song. 

Eh,  but  Sheila  had  the  laugh  the  like  of  drink  to 
weary  ones, 

(I've  never  heard  the  beat  of  it  for  all  I've  wan 
dered  wide.) 

And  out  of  all  the  girls  I  knew  the  tender  ones — 
the  dreary  ones, — 

only   Sheila  of  the   laugh   that   broke    her 
heart  and  died. 


128      THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  GRIEF 

THE  heart  of  me's  an  empty  thing,  that  never  stirs 

at  all 
For   Moon-shine   or  Spring-time,  or  a   far  bird's 

call. 
I  only  know  'tis  living  by  a  grief  that  shakes  it 

so, — 
Like  an  East  wind  in  Autumn,  when  the  old  nests 

blow. 

Grey    Eyes    and    Black    Hair,    'tis    never   you    I 

blame. 

'Tis  long  years  and  easy  years  since  last  I  spoke 
your  name. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  12Q 

And  I'm  long  past  the  knife-thrust  I  got  at  wake 

or  fair. 
Or  looking  past  the  lighted  door  and  fancying  you 

there. 

Grey   Eyes   and   Black   Hair — the   grief   is  never 

this; 

I've  long  forgot  the  soft  arms — the  first,  wild  kiss. 
But,  Oh,  girl  that  tore  my  youth, — 'tis  this  I  have 

to  bear, — 
//  you  were  kneeling  at  my  feet  I'd  neither  stay 

nor  care. 


130      THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  INTRODUCTION 

I'M  askin'  you'll  be  easy  for  a  bit,  Sir, 

The  lad's  had  little  but  a  thrush's  schooling 
The  blue  skies  and  the  fields,  the  little  whipster, 
'Tis     time     enough     for     something    more — (But 

whisper) 
He'll  go  the  better  for  an  easy  rulin'. 

Herself  was  always  for  the  bit  of  readin' 

But     Denny     here.,     he's     great     for     growin' 
things, 

There's  not  a  primrose  that  he'd  not  be  heedin' 

Herself  is  right  'tis  graver  things  he's  needin' 
The  thrush  is  tamer  when  you  clip  his  wings. 

I'd  never  have  you  spare  him  with  the  learning 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  131 

(And,  Faith,  'tis  little  that  the  lad  has  had), 
But  if  above  his  task  you'll  see  him  turnin' 
To  watch  the  fields — 'tis  just  the  thrush's  yearn- 
in'— 

I'm  askin'  you'll  be  easy  with  the  lad. 


132      THE  DREAMERS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE   Sf  AY-AT-HOME 

COMIN'  or  goin'  still  they  spread  the  news, 

About  America  how  grand  it  is, 

The  wonders  that  are  waitin'  you  to  choose 

And  gold  that  common  that  like  sand  it  is. 

"And  here  you  stick/'  says  they.     "Like  some  old 

tree 

Stuck  in  the  bog  belaboured  by  all  seasons. 
What's  ailin'  ye?"  says  they.       Well,  leave  them 

be, 
I  have  me  reasons. 

There's   Cormac's   Hugh  come  back  with  all  his 

talk, 
Spreadin'  and  spendin'  like  a  king  he  is. 


THE    DREAMERS    AND    OTHER    POEMS  133 

The  people  flockin'  down  the  way  he'll  walk, 
Till  in  the  middle  of  a  ring  he  is. 
But  where's  that  one  whose  face  was  like  a  rose 
The  day  he  went,  betwixt  her  tears  and  teasin's? 
Married    these    five    years — gone    where    no    man 

knows, 
Faith,  I've  me  reasons. 

"A  likely  lad,"  they  say.     "What's  ailin'  you, 
The  gold  and  riches  over  there  it  is." 
Sure,  I'm  not  doubtin'  what  they  say  is  true 
They  have  me  leave  to  hurry  where  it  is. 
'Tis  I  will  hold  the  treasure  that  endures, 
The  while  I'm  listenin'  to  their  talks  and  treasons. 
Oh,  Sheila  girl,  those  two  blue  eyes  of  yours, 
Faith,  I've  me  reasons. 


I 

Tr-^ 


YB  76455 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


• 


